James Albers is a Calgary-based management consultant specializing in leadership development.I confess. I recently crossed the Rubicon — or rather, the 49th parallel — on a vacation to Spirit Lake, Idaho. Yes, Idaho. Not Rome, not Paris, but a quiet dot on the American map. To hear our national media tell it, this act ranks somewhere between high treason and a reckless plunge into Mad Max territory. Apparently, stepping foot in the United States is as perilous as juggling chainsaws on a unicycle.The warnings came thick and fast, mostly from friends in Ontario. According to them, the US is a land where aggression is served at breakfast and every third person carries a bazooka. .GIESBRECHT: How to fix CBC? Hire Ezra Levant.My worries, I confess, were less about my personal safety and more about the state of our Canadian dollar—battered, frail, and treated abroad with the same respect as a counterfeit Chuck E. Cheese token.Still, duly spooked, we approached the border as if entering Mordor. Passports in hand, documentation in triplicate, and a detailed inventory of the trailer (we were more scrubbed and sanitized than a surgical ward). We had braced for interrogation under a single swinging lightbulb, or at least a cavity search from a guard nicknamed “Chainsaw.”.Instead, the officer looked at us and asked—get this—“Purpose of your visit?”“Holiday,” we whispered, rehearsed and ready.“How long?”“Seven days!”“Where?”“Spirit Lake!”He squinted, leaned in, and asked the killer question: “Got any raw meat or produce?”“No sir. We Googled it and know better.”His reply: “Well then, welcome and have a great trip.”.STEPHAN: Alberta does not need a progressive justice system.What? No electric chair? No handcuffs? No stern lecture about maple syrup tariffs? Just a smile and a wave? Either this man was dangerously off-script, or Canadians have been had.And so we rolled on, into the beating heart of American “danger.” Within hours, strangers were shaking hands, offering cold drinks, and saying, “Welcome. We’re in site 7 if you need anything.” Clearly, this was a sinister ploy to lull us into complacency. But by day three, we hadn’t locked the trailer once, and our stuff — unmolested — lay strewn about like bait.The only threat we faced was friendly conversation. People talked. About everything. The weather, the world, even politics — without fear of a censor or a fact-checker lurking in the bushes. At Walmart, you could buy anything. .And I mean anything. Groceries, fishing rods, even those fizzy “adult pops” that Ottawa would have you smuggle under the floorboards. A few miles later, we passed a building with a giant sign: “The Gun Store.” My Alberta heart fluttered. It was paradise, aisle three.What struck me most wasn’t the friendliness or the firearms. It was the prosperity. We drove through a town — population 2,550, about the size of Consort or Vauxhall — and found more shops, warehouses, and gas stations than you’d find in ten Alberta hamlets combined. It hit me: so this is what freedom looks like..SLOBODIAN: Yet another Jewish senior randomly attacked — just another day in the new Canada.And here’s the kicker: these “dangerous” Americans are rooting for us. Cheering, in fact. Not for Alberta as the 51st state — though a few joked about it — but as a free and independent nation. They recognize the scent of liberty when it’s struggling to be born.Back home, I couldn’t shake the contrast. Down there, freedom is natural as oxygen. Up here, it’s rationed out like a prescription drug. Our trip was a reminder: America may be flawed, but it is free. And that freedom — once glimpsed — is contagious.Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to look for an electric car. After all, my government insists it’s good for me.James Albers is a Calgary-based management consultant specializing in leadership development.
